


Some Love Was Made For the Lights

by theshipsfirstmate



Series: We Need to Talk About Thea [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-4x08, we need to talk about thea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshipsfirstmate/pseuds/theshipsfirstmate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-4x08. When Oliver slips away to Central City for the second time in a week, Felicity gets an unexpected visitor.</p><p>"She used to be able to come home to an empty apartment, she’s done it since she was eight years old."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Love Was Made For the Lights

_A/N: I’m gonna be pissed if Alex turns out to be a bad dude, because I heart Parker Young. That’s where this fic started before the GPS rerouted to Angstville.  
_

_Title from “[Slow It Down](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iY29CJlL_9M)” by The Lumineers._

**Some Love Was Made For the Lights**

What’s crazy is, she used to be able to do this. She used to be able to come home to an empty apartment, she’s done it since she was eight years old. She used to be able to handle the silence, to return every night and spend a few solitary hours with nothing but shitty takeout and the soft whirr of external hard drives. Now, it just breaks her heart.

She blames the high ceilings in this stupid loft, because the echoes make it worse. They’re only a week into this, this new normal, and she’s already lost count of things that are the worst. The worst was how he was keeping something from her. Then it was the outright lying. Now it’s running off to Central City with one garbage excuse or another.

She hadn’t bothered to listen to what it was once she realized there was no way to head him off at the pass. She had already rescheduled the Palmer Tech board meeting twice this month, and some of the members were starting to grow restless. It had to happen this afternoon, and Oliver knew that. So he took the first opportunity to duck away to deal with whatever it is he’s keeping from her.

So her mother was wrong about Oliver after all, no surprise there. It wouldn’t be the first time Donna Smoak’s misread a man’s intentions, she thinks bitterly. They’re not lost in each other. _She_ ’s lost, and he’s…somewhere else. So tonight she’ll start drawing a map, finding her way back out again. It’s going to hurt like a bitch, but it can’t hurt more staying in the dark and waiting for the world to crash down around her.

She throws out his note about how to heat up the dinner he left for her – allowing one bitter scoff at how he signed it with a heart – and orders delivery, something greasy she won’t really touch, and a pint of mint chip.

When the doorbell rings ten minutes later, she grabs her wallet, searching for an impressive tip. But she doesn’t need it, because behind the door is Oliver’s campaign manager, and all he’s got in his hands is a thin manila envelope.

“Alex, hi.” She musters something she hopes looks like a smile.

It must pass judgment, because he nods and steps into the entryway. “Good to see you, Ms. Smoak.”

“Please, call me Felicity.”

“I’m a little torn on that one, actually,” the young man admits, shrugging sheepishly. “On the one hand, you’re the CEO of one of our largest corporate contributors. On the other hand, you’re my boss’s girlfriend. You know what, maybe I’m not that torn…”

“Oliver isn’t here,” she cuts him off, attempting another smile. She hates how it comforts her slightly that someone’s more out of the loop than she is. But not to worry, the good feeling lasts all of ten seconds.

“I know,” Alex nods again. “He took off for Central City just after lunch.”

 _After lunch._ He had already been on the road when he called her at two-thirty to “check in” and tell her he was going. That realization tugs at the knot in her stomach, pulling it even tighter somehow.

“What can I do for you, Alex?”

“Well, I came to drop off these voter registration forms.” He holds up the folder in his hand. “Somehow it got overlooked until now, but Oliver’s not actually registered to vote. He was, before…”

“Before they pronounced him dead,” she finishes out loud when she pieces it together.

“Correct.”  

“That’s probably not a good look on a mayoral candidate, is it?”

“It’s not,” he answers lightly, though there’s a weight behind his eyes that she’s been too wrapped up in her own mind to notice until now. “So I just brought some forms over to get that sorted. I threw in a couple extra in case you, or anyone else, need one…”

Suddenly, it feels like they’re talking about something else. He moves to set the envelope down and both of their eyes drop to the side table where she and Oliver keep the mail, two names mixed up together in a stack of envelopes and mailers. She’s never had that before either, she thinks idly. 

“Alex,” she pauses, taking one second to wonder whether or not she’s ready to walk through this metaphorical door. Ultimately, there’s not really a choice to make. “Is there another reason you’re here?”

He looks away and sighs, pausing for maybe the longest ten seconds of her life.

“I was out with Thea the other night…” he starts and she has to fight the rush of relief that buzzes in her ears when she realizes it’s not about Oliver, at least not directly.

“Wait, like, _out with_ , out with?”

Alex doesn’t exactly smile, but the tips of his ears turn pink and his solid jawline tightens. It makes her think of Roy, and honestly, she’s a little heartbroken for all three of them in that moment.

“Oliver doesn’t know about you two,” she adds when he stays silent, and it’s not really a question.

“There’s not much to know,” he covers, but he still won’t meet her eyes. He’s either terrified about dating the boss’s sister behind his back, or there’s something else.

“Alex,” she lays a hand on his arm, grateful to have a distraction to fixate on, at least for the moment, “did something happen?”

“This guy, I guess he gave her a hard time or something…” When he finally glances up at her, his eyes look a little haunted. She sighs sympathetically, remembering what it was like to still be shocked by extreme violence bleeding into everyday life. “By the time I got back from the bar, she had his head through a glass door.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He looks surprised by the sentiment, and she guesses he has a right to be. But the last thing she feels like doing right now is lying for the Queen family.

“I had an uncle who was a Marine,” he continues, heaving another deep breath, and squaring his shoulders. “I saw him get in a fight at a football game once, and it was like…it was like he lost control. When we pulled him off the guy, the look in his eyes…”

It’s the same look he saw in Thea’s, she knows without asking, though she’s aware enough to realize that he might balk at the term “bloodlust.” God knows she had.

“Listen, I think you’re going to have to ask Thea, to get the real answers you’re looking for,” she tells him, trying her best not to sound dismissive, though she has enough left in her to feel guilty when his face falls. “ _But_ , I do know a few things about the Queen family.”

Alex waits for her to continue, and his eager patience is sweet and tragic at the same time. He might not be younger than her, but he looks it in that moment. Oliver would eat this guy alive if he knew, she thinks, almost allowing herself to smile, before a scolding reminder cuts it off.

“I know you did your research on Oliver,” she starts, and he nods, expression going even more serious and focused. “Probably less on Thea.”

“I tried,” he admits. “I wanted to cover all the bases. But honestly, there wasn’t much to find.”

Malcolm Merlyn’s doing, no doubt. Felicity’s fists clench unconsciously at the thought of the man, the new Demon’s Head, who didn’t even do the honor of earning the title himself. “Thea and Oliver’s life, their family history is…complicated,” she undersells. “I’m sure you understand that.”

“They’ve been through a lot,” he agrees. “I know that. But it seems like they’ve both gotten things back on track.”

“She almost died last year.” She just blurts it out, the simplest and truest thing she can think of, and Alex’s eyes go wide. Sometimes Felicity forgets that the legal version of “research” doesn’t include hacking medical records. “Going through that, well, it changed them both.”

He nods again, going quiet, and she realizes he’s probably someone who needs to solve puzzles as much as she does. It’s what he does for a living, making a candidate the perfect fit for the job.

“She asked me to be patient,” he says after a moment, voice low and quiet. “I’m just not sure what I’m waiting for.”

“I know a thing or two about that feeling,” Felicity admits, and this time she can’t help it, her lips press together and turn up at the corners as she recalls how much their drive into the sunset had felt like crossing the finish line of a marathon. “You’re waiting for her to realize she’s allowed to be happy. You just have to figure out how much of yourself you’re willing to give to that.”

The wheels are clearly turning the in the young man’s head, and she remembers working through a similar rush of emotion just a few years ago. Remembers, with vivid clarity, the moment she realized that the green-hooded vigilante was bleeding out in the back of her car. Remembers how it sounded when the heart monitor trilled a solid, terrifying pitch that echoed sharply of the concrete walls of the old Foundry. Remembers how it felt to realize that she was in it, even before he asked.

“The two of them, it takes a lot…” she continues, trailing off when pieces of another mystery start to come together in her head. “Sometimes they think they’re all they have left.”

It hits her clearly then, plain as day, and she’d slap a palm to her forehead in disbelief if it wouldn’t make her look like an idiot. It’s family. That’s the only thing he’d keep from her like this. Each possibility that flickers through her mind is more painful than the last, and it starts to feel like drowning. She wonders if she goes pale as well as silent when Alex narrows his eyes at her.

“Feeling alright, Ms. Smoak?” She doesn’t both correcting him on either count.

“I’m fine,” she forces a grin, though her head is spinning. With this hunch, she’s probably nothing more than a few strategic Google searches from the truth and suddenly, ignorance seems like it might be bliss.  “It’s just been a long week.”

“Of course,” Alex takes the hint, buttoning his coat and heading for the door. “Thank you, for…talking to me. I really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” she answer, placating and maybe even a little false, just desperate to get him out the door. But, of course, there’s one more thing.

“Oh, and Ms. Smoak? Could you maybe…not tell Oliver that we talked?”

This actually stops her cold, and she has to duck her head so he doesn’t see the traitorous tears that cloud her vision.

“Don't worry about it,” she assures him after taking what she hopes is just a split second to compose herself. “It’s not like we tell each other everything.”

They share one more tense smile across the doorway, one she knows is fake on both ends. Then the door closes, and she’s back in an empty apartment.


End file.
